Game of Lust
by smokeyeyes6
Summary: In the midst of John's final days, Art has suddenly gone missing as Jill tries to find him. Her search brings her to John's warehouse, landing her right where Hoffman wants her. Rated M for language, violence, and strong sexual content.


Jill visits John unknowing it would be the last time seeing him alive. She was so repulsed walking through the maze of what would be Jeff's test. The smell, the cryptic writing on the walls, she wanted it to be over but knew it would go on throughout the remainder of John's last days (or so she thought).

Leaving with the key around her neck along with her simple instructions; she would sit in the interrogation room at the police station with Hoffman taping the interview. Pretending she knows nothing while Hoffman did the same.

Parting ways outside the station he locks the door and then pulls a small piece of paper with a phone number on it handing it to Jill. "Answer immediately if you get a call from this number, now go home and wait for a phone call", he says with his eyes still fixed on the door. Making sure the doors locked pushing in he adds, "You might need to come back and do the same act for some liaisons they're bringing in, I'm not sure who but Kerry's making a big mistake.."

Jill puts the piece of paper in her pocket furrowing her brow at him and folding her arms with a sigh then rolling her eyes she walks back to her car. Her mind was fixed on something else. She had not heard from her lawyer Art in almost a week and he was supposed to call her days ago. The two of them were good friends and both just as lost in the whole game wanting answers but too afraid to get in John's way.

They've talked about investigating against John's threats and wishes since the divorce and the plaguing signs of madness brewing more apparent every time they all met for paperwork and legalities. From the first time they saw his workshop changing to the violent outburst John made at her telling her to stay away for her if she couldn't do it for him.

She shrugs off the flashback as she gets off the exit to her home. Dialing Art again and not getting an answer she parks on the side of the road to call again. This time someone answers.

"Hello? Art, talk to me what's going on?"

There was just silence.

"This isn't funny, whats-"

Heavy breathing ensues, then a faint cough and eerie drawn out groans. Frightened, she hangs up and makes a quick U-turn to the only place she could think he would be or was taken to.

She parks her car a block away from John's warehouse making sure not to call attention to who may be looking out for unwanted visitors. Feeling her jacket up to make sure she has everything; cell, keys, and precociously some mace. However it didn't seem like anyone was there, she walked around cautiously her shoulders hunched over scanning all around the outside. There were no cars but that didn't deem the place absolutely safe yet.

She finds the back door and tries to use the key John gave her but of course it doesn't work. She looks up finding a stair ladder folded above the door not too far from her reach. She pulls it down applying very little pressure with her heals wet from the rain and gravel. As she is climbing up she notices a light coming from the top left window. Above, a shading angle of light coming from the roof. She knew there was an opening on the roof so she continues climbing.

"Too convenient for you John," she scoffs finally getting over the ledge.

She peers down the lit space listening in for anyone who may be lurking but hears nothing. She noticed there was no way in but to jump down. The top floor was just under twenty feet high. She pulls her heels off balancing her hands and feet tightly arching her back keeping her legs stiff so her nylons don't slip. She anchors her arms gripping the roof holding the inside with her thumbs. Crouching into a sitting position lets her feet spring off the other side of the opening dangling now inside still holding onto the roof and lets go trying to land on her feet but slipping to a thud.

She regains focus and wanes her senses preparing for the overpowering smell of rust and decay permeating from the walls. The sight and scent almost made her faint but what lurked behind her would soon ensure that.

Sure enough she hears a creak from the other side of the room realizing she is not alone. Before she could see who it was a damp cloth crosses her face ending all coherence.

The lights were out when she awoke wither her arms and legs in thick leather shackles with chains tethered to two metal poles on each side wearing nothing but her bra and panties. She couldn't see anything nor could she move her head. The chloroform wearing off and leaving acidic taste rising in her throat and a burning sensation through her nostrils she controlled her breathing trying not to let the nausea and delirium overcome her. She was also freezing from the exposure as she let out a sick groan.

She pulled her wrists flexing against the tough leathery cuffs with no room for any movement.

"Help, help!" clanging the chains harder. Her voice grew louder, "Help! John? What the fuck is this?"

She instinctively screams for help louder in the slightest hope someone walking outside could hear her but no one within miles could hear her.

She screamed for John until her voice grew hoarse and strained. It became painful to continue, the acidic linger in her throat felt like a hole was tearing the walls of her trachea muting her.

Finally the lights came on one by one in echoing flashes. Her eyes tearing up from the sudden light as she squinted trying to move her head to see everything in her view. She tried craning her neck a cold chill of metal shocked her skin.

"John, what the fuck is this?", she uttered with a raspy groan.

Joined by sudden footsteps a voice came out of the corner of the room facing her.

"Johns not here, it's just me."

Stepping out of the shadows with a cup of coffee to his lips sets it down uncovering his face. It was Hoffman calm, cool, and collected with a grimacing smirk.

Enraged she clamored the chains with frustration, "What are you doing? Why are you doing this? Where's John? I've done everything he told me to, I don't deserve this!"

"You don't deserve this? You're trespassing," he gloats striding closer to her.

Narrowing his eyes on her he continues, "Your instructions were simple Jill, comply when you're needed and stay away but you couldn't do that. Neither could Art."

"What did you do with Art, where is he?", she faltered tearing her eyes away from him afraid to hear the answer.

"You'll find out soon enough", he said in amusement. "I think you should stay in the now and right now you are chained to a device, would you like me to tell you how it works?"

The lines on her forehead straining tighter and growing more frustrated and angry she lurched her neck forward shaking and growling until a series of deep pricks stopped her.

Hoffman moves in and puts his hand over her head pointing to the top of each pole pushing the buttons in on either side letting off a short *click*.

"Now, the timers are both set for two minutes and once those timers simultaneously go off they will engage the mechanism attached to each one. It will cause a release and the spools inside will retract in the opposite direction pulling the razor wires around your neck with rapid force instantly snapping your head off like a twig. It's a shame too, you have such a soft pretty little neck", he digresses smiling demonically while fondling her neck as she pulls away in fear.

"That's so creative", she said wryly to herself. She didn't want to call his bluff about something that was certain to kill her.

Hoffman steps back and adds with conviction, "I apologize that your death will be on such a simple apparatus. It's something I'm still working on", he explains almost defensively.

"Goodbye Jill", stoically walking away leaving her alone with last thoughts and declining ticks of the device.

Then he pauses and turns back to her, "On second thought, I would rather watch. It's what John would have wanted." Holding a stance and folding his hands in front of him. He kept his gaze on her watching her panic, clenching her jaw, sniffling and holding back tears between her lashes as the hot wet moisture settled under her eyes.

She screams and rants ending in sighs whipping her head in a circular havoc. As she hears the tick grow louder and faster in her head she feels a sharp edge lean into the side of her neck along with a tug from the razor wire. Then a swift *snip*. She bounces her neck from either side of the metal collar no longer feeling the prickly sensation as the time goes out and the razor wire snaps back to each side only without her flesh being strangled and pulled back with it.

She coughs, relaxing her facial muscles, shaking her head to dry herself.

Hoffman had used a pair of pliers to cut the wire, he had been bluffing as she had guessed. Still in utter shock she remains silent.

"I couldn't have done this even if I wanted to. But John's time is almost up; he's the only one keeping you safe from me. He wishes you remain alive and well but I suggest otherwise, you are a pest and a liability", he protested pulling her hair away from her face while she writhed back in disgust.

She smiled and cocked her head to his eye level and then spit in his face, "Fuck you".

His face started to flush red so he turned away regaining his composure, biting his lip hard to reboot his train of thought.

"Well since you've offered – "he sighs grabbing her hair pulling her head back.

"No!" She hisses, her throat tightening. She fidgets away from his advances as much as the chains will allow.

He chuckles demonically finally getting a grip under her hair digging his nails into the back of her neck, his other hand traveling down her breasts, down to under her stomach, eying her caesarian scars.

"Aw", sighing remorsefully following the lines with his finger tips. "I'm sorry about Gideon. He clears his throat, "You know I-"

She pushes back sneering. "Let me go you sick fuck, please!"

Ignoring her cries still fixed on her scars, he lets go of her neck and puts both hands around her waist massaging the sides of her pelvis with his thumbs softly than harder. His hands were cold and rough, the shock of his touch shooting up her spine.

Then, it came to her. "This is just a game. The quicker I let him do what he wants the quicker it would be over. He can't kill me; it's against what John wants. He may be on his deathbed but he is still alive and controlling everything no matter how much Hoffman wants to think otherwise. Besides, Hoffman probably won't last longer than a minute" she scoffs thinking all of this to herself.

"Mark?" she coos.

Hoffman begins to perspire as his breathing deepens. He still does not answer her as his thumbs drift under the waist lines of her panties loosening them and trying to pull them down.

"After you're done with me, you-you'll let me go right?" she asks softly nodding reassuring trying to meet eyes with him.

He looks up moving in to smell her hair nestling around it to kiss her neck, brushing his pillowy lips under her ear up to her temple. He reaches down her backside pushing her panties down sliding his fingers between her lips. To his surprise, she was soaking wet. Using two fingers to penetrate he found it hard to motion in and out as her body pulled away.

She felt a sharp jolt of pain letting out a shrill quivering moan.

He continues, bending his index only sliding his middle finger inside this time.

"Fuck you", he mocks Jill to himself. He pushes it all the way inside her, his other fingers cradling her vulva as he moves his lips away from her neck licking her ear lobe. She could hear his tongue going back in his mouth to whisper, "You're so uptight Jill, when's the last time John touched you?"

Jill hadn't been touched since she became pregnant. She had been through so much pain and suffered so much loss. The moment those words registered she felt outraged, violated, offended. Every nerve in her body told her to murder this animal and get away if only she could. At the same time though; she felt pleasure, pain as pleasure, and anticipation. Her wild instincts made her wet and vibrant. There was no denying Hoffman's advances now, her body gave her away.

Her eyes began to roll, tilting her head to the ceiling while Hoffman continued sucking and biting her neck. "You'll let me go, right?" she asked again groaning.

Starting to moan in pleasure himself, he ignored her again. Her submissive behavior sent chills of ecstasy to his gut and blood now rushing through his member. He didn't need to say anything of reassurance, she was ready and willing.

"Jill, your freedom depends on how well you do. Don't ask me again or I'll make sure you don't enjoy this at all", he snarled under his breath. He loosens his hand under her, this time unfolding his index joining his middle inside her pushing in lowering his head and gazing down her cleavage. He sighs in aggravation.

"I want you on your back, but how can I trust you?" he scorns. He pulls his switchblade out of his pocket and flips it open across her face and pins it under her chin. He kneels with the blade still in place to unfasten the brown leather cuffs around her ankles. After releasing her first leg he pauses waiting for a swift kick from her but no attempt was made. He continues to unfasten the other one. He wanted her to kick him and lash out giving him a reason to smack her back.

Hoffman sighs, "You disappoint me Jill", drawing the blade away from her to put it on the worktable behind them.

She smirks, "I'll probably say the same in about 5 min-"

He cuts her off with one open handed strike across her face. He smiles wide with amusement and moves on to release her arms. He unbuckled one cuff; her free wrist landing in his grip as he lifts her arm over her head freeing her other wrist then pulling the other arm over, her knees buckling. He leaned in pushing into the wall behind her while she straightened her legs regaining her posture. Lifting one leg to wrap it around his waist as he let go of her wrists picking her up, she felt the hard pressure of his hard cock against her bare crotch. The wet moisture from her began seeping into his pants as he carried her over to the table throwing her down along with her back but she could barely notice too caught up in the moment.

She looked up at him pouting her lips; her eyes turning deep brown wither her arms flat to her sides. He looks complacently at her and grabs her neck squeezing it, almost like he was studying her pulsing throat while he was unfastening his belt getting his pants down. He squeezes her neck tighter until her eyelids flutter releasing it to put his hands on the table bending her arms in to kiss her. First caressing his lips over hers then opening partially taking in her deep exhales from loss of breath exciting him with the control he had over her completely.

"You breathe when I let you; you shut up when I hit you. You're the perfect wife", he remarks faintly chuckling. "Now you're going to take me in, all of me. No matter how much it hurts you'll beg me to keep going", he nods insistently pulling his cock out and pulls her towards the edge by her hips holding his cock up steering it under her lips massaging her clit then lowers it cramming it up inside of her with one bold thrust.

Her eyes widen and tear up as her back arches, chest rising. She lets out a long quivering moan, reaching her hands up for him to kiss her again. Her face becomes flushed with perspiration and passion as she switches to a high gasp, her jaw open as if too heavy to close up.

He obliged to her, adorning his heavy lips back against her wide open mouth landing his long slippery tongue in massaging hers then down her throat feeling her pants building around it. If only it were his cock instead of his tongue but her pussy felt just as good. He pushed in all the way awaiting her pants to grow longer and deeper.

Her jaw then tightened, staggering his tongue back to her mouth sucking in her saliva swallowing it with a satisfied groan. He leaned away to kiss her neck biting it harder than he had before until piercing through her thin soft flesh sucking the blood in and swallowing.

"Mmm, sweet", he muttered striding in and pulling out to the head and then slamming it back in while her growing fits of pain made him throb harder almost ready to climax. He stops to prolong it letting himself rest inside her.

He reaches over to get the open blade he left next to them placed at just the right distance from her to get to and brushes the point back and forth her décolletage guiding it lower to her breasts and under the center of her bra opening it to exposing her completely. He drags the blade over her erect nipples sensationalizing her cold breasts as she lets out a shrill high gasp of pleasure.

Putting the blade back he grabs one of her breasts, kneading it like a cat thrusting at a steady pace. He lets go of her breast and pulls out with a heavy groan pulling her down by the hips off the table and turns her around, her face landing on the splintery wood surface. Before she knew it her hands were cuffed behind her and her insides coerced again. He spreads her gluts to get in farther, pounding with a raging force holding her still with both hands on her hips. The handcuffs excited him, giving him pure control, insuring full release without a possibility of her striking back in the midst of his vulnerable lust.

Jill began whining and screaming in sheer pain, her insides felt thrashed. The motion of time was in a mist of suspension. Her sight became blurred and she wanted him to stop.

"Please, stop Mark." She bellowed, her eyes clenched shut.

His groan strains to a low utterance of inarticulate sounds as he denies her plea pounding and thrusting faster and pulling her hair. He says in a stoical monotone, "What the fuck did I say, Jill?"

"Please keep fucking me, Mark", she whimpers. She tries moaning softer with an inviting tone though it wasn't fooling him.

"You lying bitch, you love this don't act like you don't!" his throat drying out and tightening up with the rest of his muscles. Then he growls, "Oh, fuck. I'm cumming Jill, fuck!"

"Please Mark, don't! Not inside, please", she moaned heavily trying to lift her head up but he took her by the hair and threw her head back down causing her forehead to bleed. She tried squirming away but he held her hips tighter using both hands again coming to a pause and starting up again churning fast then slow over and over until his loins gave out in a spasm of full release letting out a placated sigh then a grating growl, gripping her sides hanging his head down.

"You're taking it all in Jill, right in your tight little cunt!", he growls through his teeth with one last jaunt.

He collapses over her pushing deep against the table trembling over her in exhaustion, his cock still throbbing inside her. She feels his hot load shooting up through her, writhing hopelessly under his weight.

As the cuffs poke at his gut he gets up to take the key out of his coat pocket taking them off also closing up his blade, putting it away with the handcuffs.

Both of them still catching their breath, he eases out letting their fluids fall out of her.

Shaking in small tremors, she slips down from the table trying to stand up but cant gripping the edge of the table shivering. Her wet naked body now cold again as she tries to hold herself up uttering a worn out groan.

Watching Jill so sore as she struggles to hold herself up almost got him going again but he regains his composure, pulling his pants up and reaching in his side pocket. Her back still turned to him he pulls out a syringe of chloroform and jabs her in the neck kissing her cheek, licking the sweat off the side of her face as her eyes wince shut.

"Good girl, you're ready for bed now", he chortles to himself.

Jill wakes up in her bed wearing her nightgown as if nothing happened. Cupping her forehead she feels disorientated and only vaguely remembers what went on. The soreness in her lower region reminded her with a momentum of flashbacks from last night at the warehouse.

She pulls the covers off; turning over to find her cell phone and the piece of paper with the number he gave her at the police station on her nightstand propped over a typed card saying: "I can help you and tell you everything you want to know. Call the number I gave you at 7:00 pm tomorrow."

She looks across the room and finding the clothes and heals she wore that night draped neatly over her chair with everything else in place.

She doesn't need to deliberate on calling, her life depends on it.


End file.
